Postscript
by bergundy
Summary: A troubling series of murders have been plaguing Konoha, and police detective Itachi, recently transferred from Otafuku, leads the investigation. Non-ninja alternate universe.
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** Every time I try to write light-hearted things, they turn out dystopic. Also, none of the usual alliances line up with the manga. D: Sorry. This is probably the most random alternate universe I ever came up with. I think we've already established that I'm a horrible person for starting so many projects. I don't like that about my writing myself, but THE MUSE GOES ON dragging me kicking and screaming. Writing my final paper for the semester was _hell _because plot bunnies.

**Disclaimer: **Naruto's not mine. Part One's title and lyrics belong to Autamata. Your mileage may vary (YMMV). Greatly.

**Warning: **Some character deaths. It's necessary, sorry.

***This three-shot has been completed,** although sequels are very, very possible (you may hate me for it). The subsequent parts will be uploaded on Tuesdays.

* * *

_And now this day_

_The things I've seen in this age_

_My skies have changed_

* * *

At the end of a long workday, sometimes all you wanted to do was sit down and stare into space, thinking about nothing. There was a nice patch of blank space on the east-facing wall of Gekkou Hayate's apartment for that. He had just put down his briefcase at the table – those briefs could and _would_ wait; that was the point of having a private practice (would be what his partner, Genma, often remarked) – and collapsed onto the couch when there was a knock on the door.

Usually, Yuugao rang the doorbell. He remembered, though, that it had broken the other day when the takeout delivery person tried it.

Hayate ran a hand through his disheveled brown hair and crossed the apartment at his leisure. Yuugao was the one who had told him to take it easy, anyway. Lung surgery patients weren't supposed to move fast (according to her). For goodness's sake, you look like you're dying (also according to her). You _sound _like you're dying.

_I'm on medication, _he had responded, not admitting that they were just cough drops. Yuugao worried a bit too much about him, and her job was stressful enough to start with. She and Genma had cooperated to force him to take on less work for the past month; he barely knew the new client who had approached Gekko and Shiranui, Attorneys at Law, LLC, for representation. What had happened to the days when he could have been a one-man team and they'd set a record for themselves by handling five cases at the same time? (Still had that plaque of thanks from Tazuna – and the guarantee that they'd never need to pay tolls on the new bridge). They took on more cases for free, back then, one to every four for-profit ones. What had happened… he wasn't even that old.

The knock came again, this time more like a fist hammering impatiently on the wood.

With a sinking resignation, Hayate concluded that Yuugao was _not _on the other side. Nevertheless, it sounded urgent. "Just a second," he called, fighting the itch in his throat that would set off another round of coughs.

He checked the peephole and saw a pale-looking man with slicked-back hair and a leather duster standing on the welcome mat. There was a long, wrapped package strapped to his back.

"Evening," Hayate answered the door calmly. The man was only slightly taller than him, but he was giving off a weird vibe. His stare had a curious intensity, comparable to the look Hayate had once gotten from a hyena at a zoo on a daytrip with Yuugao. But Hayate had met fairly bizarre characters over the course of his career, so he didn't even blink. If he sounded brusque, that was because it had been a long day. "What's your business here?"

The man smiled. "Judgment day."

* * *

"Go on. Confession's good for the soul."

Her friend snorted, slurping up the tapioca pearls in her tea through a fat purple straw. The ambient noise of the other people in the café drowned out the sound. "You would say that. You're an investigative journalist."

Hana shrugged. That was a kind way to put it. She wasn't one of those serious journalists who published bestsellers about the stint they had spent with the Head of State or on the warfront in Kiri or half as revolutionary as that shadowy international hacking organization who had made a giant splash the other month, when "Bingo Book," an extensive international directory of mob networks, corrupt public officials, and regularly updated information on individual whereabouts, had gone public on the nets.

Hana's greatest achievements, in contrast, took up full-page spreads in the Konoha Exclusive. Anko still tormented her about getting name-dropped in the cult hit adult fiction series called _Icha Icha_;Hana had never been more grateful that she had decided to write under a pseudonym.

"It's nowhere near as interesting as your stories … I might, er, run into him again next Monday, that's all."

"See if you can actually find out his name," suggested Hana, earning her an exasperated sigh tempered with a grin.

"And report back to you? Sadly enough, I think I might. So you can give me the dirt on him then…I _really _hope there's nothing to find."

Hana raised her eyebrows. Her friend chewed on the end of her straw, trying and failing to look sincere.

Ayame caved. "All right, I guess I wouldn't mind if there did happen to be a good story. Is that how you figure out whom to write about, actually – someone comes to you with a name? How _did _you find out about Utatane's fling?"

The article, signed "Haimaru," as always, had begun: _Let's not give old men such a hard time… old women have itches, too. If Utatane Koharu's itch can only be satisfied by a man forty years her junior, well, who are we to judge anyone else?_ The rest had been written like a mock-journalistic piece on the councilwoman standing on trial for the fictitious case against her.

All of Konoha would be her judge and jury.

"If I told you," Hana said seriously, "I'd have to kill you, or worse..." She waited until Ayame's dark eyes widened. "…Write about you."

Ayame smirked. "I'd have at least two months to put my affairs in order, then. You'd give me that, wouldn't you? For a friend?"

"For the sake of fairness," agreed Hana, playing with the straw in her half-finished drink. She tried to keep her reporting balanced so that no gender was consistently singled out. Last month, it had been about favored mayoral candidate Shimura Danzou's addiction to BDSM. Once a week, he used to visit his favorite club downtown… Now, he probably no longer got to, because the article had generated so much business for the club that he'd be lucky to sneak in through the back. Apparently, Danzou's recommendation went a long way…

"Who's next in the lineup?"

"Hm. Well." Hana tapped her fingers on the edge of the table, her eyes running over the figures hurrying across the street through the unexpected light rain. Some of them had pulled their jackets over their heads; others just hunched their shoulders and sped up to cross before the light changed. Spring had arrived, and it was going to shit on everyone's day until at least mid-May. That was how it went in Konoha. Pleasant, bright skies… and then, out of the blue, a deluge. But nothing was unexpected if you learned to read the signs or check the forecast.

Most high-profile people in Konoha had skeletons in their closets and, in general, many of them knew that Hana would get the scoop on them sooner or later.

She hadn't been notorious until the Orochimaru article. Hana's big break had cost the former Professor of Molecular Biology his tenure at Konoha University when her article revealed that, at one time, no less than ten couples had tried to bring Orochimaru to court on counts of kidnapping and illegal experimentation on their children, as well as luring them with false advertising for "innovative" daycare practices. The out-of-court settlement had involved astronomical sums of money… money that Orochimaru had, in all likelihood, embezzled from his research funding. He'd pretty much skipped town after the story went public. Ironically, Hana's best-known work, the closest she'd come to serious muckraking, also bothered her the most, because of that loose end. She had started the private investigation for a friend who had once been a brilliant grad student and currently struggled to make ends meet. Anko had applied to different programs after breaking with Orochimaru, but without success; the taint of her former mentor trailed her everywhere. It was as if Konoha was punishing her for doing the good deed of protesting her research advisor's methods.

Konoha liked scapegoats, targets for their concentrated viciousness – apart from which they could go back to acting like nice, ordinary people. Hana had decided from then on to give Konoha what it wanted and deserved.

"You can't even give me a hint?" Her friend wheedled, pushing her brown bangs behind her ear.

"A hint? Okay…but don't overreact." Hana glanced back at Ayame, tearing her gaze from the window. The rain streaking down the glass was distorting the view, anyway. "He's in this café."

Ayame stiffened in her seat in the booth across from Hana, visibly restraining herself from pivoting around. Hana could practically hear her count the number of times that the door chime had rung since the start of their conversation. The weather outside, though, had brought in a larger-than-normal group of patrons.

"Aw… give me another clue?"

Hana laughed and finished her tea. "I need to go back and start writing. My dogs will be expecting me, and I need to get something in before my mother calls." She had three enormous grey-backed dogs, the canine triplets who were the original Haimaru. Ever since she had moved out of the house where her mother and younger brother lived, the Haimaru brothers had served as a source of comfort and protection.

Some of Hana's articles had earned her dangerous enemies.

Ayame's brow wrinkled, and she looked a bit put out. "You aren't going to go over and say hi to your next victim?"

"What would be the point of that?" Hana shrugged on her light jacket. As she bent down to retrieve her umbrella, she stole a glance at the counter.

She had to admit, she was going miss this place. But it was always better to be safe than sorry.

Who knew what additional ingredients would go into her drink if she turned up after the next issue came out…

"Wait for me," Ayame called, straightening her mini-skirt. "I want to say bye to the hot barista boy before we leave."

"Cradle-robber," teased Hana.

"Shut up!"

* * *

_Uchiha Sasuke: nineteen-year-old high school dropout._

_Heir to one of Konoha's darkest secrets._

_Are you ready to hear it?_

He scanned through the article without any change in expression, then folded back the magazine pages to study the photos.

"I thought you'd be interested," said his partner.

He put the magazine back down on the table and stood; the chair he had been occupying wobbled on its uneven legs. The chairs in the office were all broken in some way or bent out of shape from enduring ages of abuse long before they had been deeded over to Itachi as part of his new workspace. He had put in an order for a swivel chair and a couple new pieces of furniture, and the additional cabinets were supposed to arrive in the afternoon. What with the urgency of their current case, refurnishing the office kept slipping down his list of priorities.

He'd transferred over from Otafuku directly after solving the grand theft auto case,and he still hadn't met everyone in the department, given the ongoing investigation, even if he had reviewed all their dossiers… obsessively, as Kisame declared. It was his first day off since starting – crime, after all, did not wait – and it'd been practically forced upon him. Apparently realizing that Itachi would just show up as usual, it seemed that Commissioner Pein had decided to relocate everyone else for the day. Had Itachi wanted to, he could have figured out where they had all gone, but he had been planning to do some work by himself. Kisame had stayed behind – solely to keep him company, it seemed.

Or to keep him unproductive, as most people erroneously equated that to relaxing or having fun. Yet even before Kisame had slid the magazine across the table, Itachi had already felt like he was being unproductive, with the unfamiliar scent of his new office leading his thoughts astray when he needed to focus.

Give it time, Mother would have chided – and in any case, everything smelled a little different in the spring, what with all the rain.

Impending failure also smelled different. He sensed it looming on the horizon, and though he didn't fear it, he resisted its approach with every fibre of his being. Here, failure didn't mean _No gold star for you _– yes, the academy gave out stars (and Kisame had guffawed when he heard) – nor one less pat on the back. It meant another gruesome body arranged for calculated effect on a blood-soaked surface.

What else had they learned over the course of three months' investigation?

The murders had a ritualistic aesthetic to them. The trunk of the body was always enclosed by a triangular shape formed from the dismembered limbs (an elbow crook for one of the vertices) that was itself circumscribed by a circle of blood. The head was the centerpiece, propped up at the vertex directly opposite the line of vision of the first person entering the room. Different victims, same every time.

Anyone even loosely connected to the investigation knew that, just like how everyone who had lived in Konoha for the last decade knew a couple facts about the Uchiha scandal. But this article had gone a step further, unearthing details that most _family members _wouldn't have known.

"This," he said, his fingertip resting lightly on the glossy page. "This is what we need."

Kisame blinked. "Reports on your family history and brother in questionable magazines?"

Itachi knew he was being deliberately obtuse. "If you're staying in the office today, could you please buzz in the cabinets when they arrive?"

The other man pulled the magazine back to him, pale eyes narrowing as he studied the photos that Itachi had been perusing. "You could just shoot the guy an email. Haimaru," Kisame clarified, in case Itachi thought he was referring to his estranged younger brother.

"Haimaru's female."

"Male. I ran his work through gender analysis before."

At least he wasn't making an asinine comment about the masculine pseudonym. "Female," Itachi stated again, flipping the collar of his trench coat and simply draping on the dark blue scarf before heading out.

"Want an umbrella?" offered his partner. "I'm surprised you forgot yours today."

"I didn't forget." Itachi had left it at a food stand the other night as a signal. "Thank you, but it should be a short walk." The closest subway station was a block away, and if he recalled correctly, his intended destination was just seven minutes from the stop; four, if he picked up the pace.

"Tell him-her-it 'hello' for me," Kisame said cheerfully.

Itachi pulled out his phone and dialed as he walked. He'd never added this number to his list of contacts, but he would turn in his badge before he ever forgot it.

Likewise, she'd promised that it would never change.

* * *

The apartment felt stuffy.

Hana went to the windows and winched one of them open while holding the phone to her ear with the other. The scent and sounds of rain, traffic, and the food truck across the street glided into the apartment. Chusa, one of the three enormous dogs lounged in front of the TV, swiveled an ear. His tail thumped in his sleep.

"They'll get over it soon, Mom, they always do… people can get used to anything."

"People won't stand for these state-ordered home inspections! That's an invasion of privacy – as if we don't know anything about hygiene… it'd be one thing if they were enforcing stricter regulations on construction companies, checking for structural soundness and proper use of materials… everyone knows the companies take the money and use it to buy the cheapest thing that looks right…"

By nature, Tsume was a contradictory combination of optimism and paranoia, especially concerning human nature. This kept Hana's mother in a consistent state of indignation; most phone calls opened with the latest troubling policies that the mayor had signed into effect. How could anyone trust his judgment when Danzou remained on the municipal council?

"I'm not sure about that. That new invasive species of fungus has got everyone terrified. But it'll die down and the law will get repealed… so don't worry."

"I don't like it. I'm sure I won't be the only one lodging a complaint. See if Sarutobi Hiruzen gets my vote again next election."

Hana was fairly sure her mother would be one of a measly handful. She stood by her first statement: Konoha's people could tolerate anything; every month she could shock them less and less. One of these days, they wouldn't bat an eye at the stories she told, and that would be her signal to move elsewhere, perhaps even out of the country. At least Suna didn't have a deadly fungal problem that she knew of…

Her phone vibrated. The number on the screen didn't exactly make her jump, but her heart skipped a beat. What, after all this time?

"Hey, Mom, I've got another incoming call… can we continue this later?"

"Just remember that when they come for you, it's _your right _to shut the door in their face."

"Right…"

She hesitated just a second longer before switching to the other line, holding the phone to her ear without speaking.

"Hana," the person on the other end said.

A beat passed.

"Hello," she said. _I was wondering when you'd ring me up._

"Are you free right now?"

"I can talk for a couple minutes."

"Would you happen to be home?"

Business. That had to be why he was calling. Otherwise, irritation. She didn't think he was the type to read Konoha Exclusive, but maybe someone had brought it to his attention at some point. "Maybe… What can I do for you?"

"Can you please buzz me up?"

Damn, he knew where she lived? _Keeping tabs on me now, are you. _Or he might have looked her up with his law enforcement officer powers.

Well, he had said 'please.' Most cops these days didn't bother.

Not that Hana had needed to chat with the police recently. She thought she'd done a pretty good job staying on the right side of the law. Especially ever since Itachi had started working as a detective for the Konoha Police Department.

"Why not…" She let her reply trail off, letting him hear how unenthused she felt. But her finger hit the buzzer to unlock the front door, which she heard moments later through the phone.

"Thank you."

"Sure." She hung up.

What did he want?

* * *

A shadow passed over his face, along with a fetid, musty odor. _Heathen. _His associate had arrived, shattering the quiet with his grumbling.

_Lord Jashin, forgive me._

"How much longer are you going to take? Time is _money, _you brainless fool."

He drank in the copper tang in the air and lay still until his heartbeat, which had sped up in irritation at the new presence, slowed to its previous rhythm.

"Do you waste less time on kids? Next one isn't even out of high school… g – damn it, Hidan, get the f – up."

The hard toe of a boot rammed into his ribs. He reared up, snarling. "I'll send you to hell, you f – ing shit! You _don't interrupt me_. Seriously." The other man looked unimpressed. In the dimly lit warehouse, he was but a vaguely humanoid silhouette. Hidan glared at the blob of shadow where his face was approximately located. "If you f – ing do that again, Kakuzu, I'll have to start over from the beginning."

"Get on with it," snapped Kakuzu. "We don't have all f – ing night." His shadow passed over Hidan as he strode off a short distance away, leaving bloody footprints on the ground. Moments later, the sound of piss hitting the base of a metal door could be heard.

That disrespectful f – …

Hidan lay back down and felt the blood saturate his skin, rejuvenating him with the vitality of an immortal. Beneath his shoulder blades, the crook of an arm pointing the way to eternity. Above his head, the head of the sacrifice. On either side of his feet, the feet of the one he had just consecrated.

He completed the last rites, and then pushed himself into a sitting position. Kakuzu was reading something on his phone – probably a message from their leader.

"So," said Hidan, "where the f – to next?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** Part 2/3. Enjoy! Or throw tomatoes.

* * *

_But how can we fight this bloody war_

_With not enough soldiers?_

* * *

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-_

Itachi shut off the alarm clock and lobbed it at the waste basket across the small office. It hit the wall and tipped perfectly into the basket. Alarm silenced, he picked up his pen again and resumed reading.

He'd concluded since the second set of grisly murders had been reported that he was unlikely to see the inside of his flat until the case was solved. Hence, he'd brought his alarm clock and placed it next to his work on the desk… or desks, as he and Kisame had put four of them together to accommodate all the documents and print-outs. Combined, they barely left a corridor of space around the perimeter of the room.

It had been the third time in a row that his alarm clock had gone off at Itachi's usual (former) waking time of five a.m., though, so perhaps he should have written off sleep as a lost cause as well – _without _indulging in that bit of needless violence.

Kisame entered through the door, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with the back of the hand that clutched a fresh stack of papers. "Konoha General finally faxed over his medical records." The only other place to keep such ungodly hours _would_ be the city's largest hospital.

They hadn't needed an autopsy to tell that the cause of death for the fourth victim had also been straight-up bludgeoning, flaying, and dismemberment, but those had at least confirmed that the cuts had all been made in the same, eerily precise way. The deceased's girlfriend, Uzuki Yuugao, had already mentioned that he had been recovering from lung surgery at the time, but the investigation had yet to view the man's actual records, so a search warrant had been issued in case they would offer anything new. The truth was, Konoha PD had been running on empty for a week now – just like Itachi.

Until the next murder, that was… then they'd have a new wealth of information with little conceivable connection. The timing between kills followed a strange pattern that, with the appearance of the March murder, had revealed what their hypotheses about February had obscured: the murderer executed his victims on the night before the full moon, and with each successive date, the number per night had escalated by one. So they could expect the next count on April thirteenth to go up to four.

They assumed it was a _he _now, not just due to the strength required to dismember the victims – alive, based on blood clotting analysis – but because they had finally rustled up a useable DNA sample. It matched nothing currently on file. They had already called Interpol to check their records there, but the idea of turning over the investigation didn't sit well with Itachi. So far, the murderer had operated mainly in Konoha.

Six crime scenes, and they didn't even have his fingerprints.

Itachi's phone vibrated in his pocket while he flipped through Gekkou's records. Someone was calling him from a private number. "Itachi," he answered – using his surname tended to be counterproductive, and his first name was unique enough to stand alone most of the time.

"I thought you'd be awake."

It made sense that Hana would choose to hide her number, considering her line of work. His stomach clenched. Had she noticed something that they hadn't about the case?

"I looked over the information you gave me," said Hana. "I think it's safe to say that you can cross out Gekkou and Shiranui's latest client as a dead-end."

"Why?"

"Er… we can talk more about that later. I also read up on victim number one, Nii Yugito… apparently she really liked karaoke. Specifically, this place called Springtime of Youth."

"We've pulled the names of everyone who's gone there for the last six months before the murder." Courtesy of Maito Gai, owner of the karaoke lounge.

"Did you finish going through them?"

Given the other potential evidence to be sifted? They were almost ready to go back to the list and video records – and half the department would rather soak their heads in potassium hydroxide than sit through any of them again, but…

"No," Itachi conceded.

"I'd like to see the list – and not the one with just the names of people she might have met while she was physically there."

"You think the lounge was a drop-off point for anything?" They had also conducted a thorough search of the place, but the camera coverage had also been spotty there.

"Cover all your bases, right? By the way, do you feel like going on a date?"

This time, the word left his mouth without any premeditation. "What?" he said blankly. A moment later, he caught himself spinning the pen through his fingers. Small motions like these were tells; he'd thought he had broken the habit long ago. Across the spread of papers on the desks, Kisame watched him with interest.

"A day trip." The voice over the phone was light and cajoling. "Hit up all the sites where the victims were found in the morning – they don't look that far apart or hard to get to from each other – and then… it's been a while since I went to karaoke."

_Keep up, Itachi, _he heard underneath.

"Or, you know," she added after he hadn't said anything in response, "I could go by myself, too…"

"You can't."

"You'd be surprised." She didn't sound as though she _wanted _to be unescorted, though.

"Fine," Itachi heard himself say. He had dragged Hana into this, and his instinct told him not to let her make those visits on her own… even if being seen with him probably wouldn't make her life any easier. "I'll go with you."

"Really, you don't have to. I'll be pretty safe," Hana added, apparently reading his mind. "I've got three giant dogs to protect me, and they're smarter than the average human male; even a serial killer would think twice."

Had she just compared him negatively to her dogs? "Does tomorrow work for you?"

"Look, I –" He could hear the moment she gave in, as if he had twisted her arm. "That could work, but Friday would be better if you want to get this done in one day. Fewer people go to karaoke on Wednesday night."

"Friday," he confirmed.

"I'll meet you outside the police station Friday morning at seven… that's where you live, right?" He heard the smile in her voice.

"Done."

When he hung up, his partner's jaw was hanging open. "I don't believe it," marveled Kisame. "I think I just heard Uchiha Itachi agree to a date." When Itachi had first transferred over from Otafuku, about half the female staff had tried to ask him out, before they realized he didn't even take proper lunch breaks. The ongoing investigation, though, had a sobering effect on such workplace teasing.

Itachi knew better than to respond to Kisame's remark and encourage a revival. "Have you found anything relevant in Hayate's records so far?" He planned to pass them along in some form to Hana by the end of the week. It wasn't strictly allowed until she was officially approved as a civilian consultant, but Itachi had always prioritized efficiency over bureaucracy.

"Not yet. Must be a special kind of woman…" his partner muttered in sotto voce.

* * *

A blond boy pushed through the glass doors of the community center with his backpack slung over one shoulder. The receptionist behind the desk started to speak before looking up, "Good afternoon! How may I – oh. It's you. You can just wait there."

Five minutes passed, and it was three past six by the time a harassed-looking man emerged from the doorway behind the receptionist, rubbing the slightly raised ridge of scar tissue across his nose bridge. "Naruto! You're early."

Naruto's slightly furrowed brows smoothed out as he grinned. "Yeah, well, you can't be too early for ramen! Isn't that what you always say?"

Umino Iruka smiled slightly and snagged a chocolate from the basket on the desk. "Have a good one, Mizuki. I'll see you tomorrow." The receptionist made an unenthusiastic grunt as the pair exited the lobby.

"You won't _believe_ what happened. That college tutor they hired to help teach remedial chemistry – it's Sakura!"

"That's great news," Iruka said sincerely.

"Actually, no… she's gonna work me to the ground… but, hey, it's _Sakura_… with her on my case, I'll definitely graduate this year."

"If you studied at the same rate that you go through bowls of ramen, Naruto…"

"Could I have a bowl for each page I get through in the practice book?"

"Let's discuss that later…"

Naruto chattered freely, moving on to the subject of their neighborhood pick-up game of basketball that weekend, while his adoptive father nodded and hardly got in a word edgewise. Neither of them noticed the extra pairs of eyes that were observing.

* * *

"Home inspection!" announced the voice from the other side of Hana's door, with just a bit too much enthusiasm.

Hana reached over the Haimaru brothers to yank it open and started padding back to the sofa in the living room area before the visitor had fully entered the house. "I swear I don't have your _Icha Icha Rampage _or whatever. You left it at Kotetsu's."

"It's _Icha Icha Apocalypse _now," said Mitarashi Anko, waving it gloatingly under Hana's nose when she had caught up to her. "Best damn thing this city's published for years, too!"

Hana glanced up to give her friend a wry smile. "Well, I'm no reader of high literature, but I'll take your word for it. Nice haircut, by the way."

Anko pulled out the elastic holding back the ends of her new, spiky cut. It suited her much better than the subdued, straightened style she'd had it in previously. "Thought it was time for a change." The older woman sank into the recliner angled toward the television. She looked right at home, with Shosa, Chusa, and Taisa all bumping her elbow with their noses and making small whines of happiness. "This one has a brilliant plot, and Kazuya stops being a cameo character – I just wish I knew what happened to inspire the old perv. His supplier must have come through."

Hana paused midway through typing the password to unlock her laptop. "Oh? Do tell."

One hour later, while she was changing to go out, Anko was still debating the finer points of _Apocalypse _with her_. _"It makes _perfect _sense if you would only follow what I'm telling you."

"I still don't understand why Kazuya had to kill Shioru," Hana retorted from behind the half-open closet door. They were just heading out to their favorite local ramen stand, so she figured a regular top with jeans would blend right in. Unlike Anko, she didn't dress to make a statement; the only time she did that deliberately was when she was out sniffing around for information. Grabbing the first set of clothes she saw saved a lot of time. Of course, Shosa had to go and upend the laundry hamper…

"Because he was trying to get at Mariko."

"He has no connection to Shioru whatsoever! From what you've told me, he had no incentive to kill Shioru rather than Junko, which, by the way, would have shut down half of the resulting drama. How did he even know Shioru and Mariko were acquainted?"

"Obviously, someone told him off-screen – since the story isn't being told from _his _perspective, we don't read about it directly."

"Well, sorry for being so slow…"

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Anko agreed, though her subsequent cackle belied the reproving tone.

Hana stepped around the closet. "Let's go. I'm starving… Anko?" She wasn't in the bedroom anymore.

"Who's the lucky guy you're seeing?"

Hana returned to the living room area to see Anko reading off the calendar dangling on a peg beside the door. Only their long acquaintance had taught Anko to read the shorthand in which Hana scrawled notes to herself… the thing was, Hana forgot that her friend tended to read whatever she left in plain sight. "Nobody."

"You said that a bit too quickly for him to be a _complete_ non-entity," mused Anko, making a show of stroking her nonexistent beard. "You must be afraid I would tempt him to cheat on you if we ever met."

"Exactly. The less you know about each other, the better."

Anko rolled her eyes and gave Hana a shove in the shoulder. "You're no fun."

"I got _this_ because of you, didn't I?" Hana said, referring to the abstract symbol that was tattooed on the shoulder her friend had just abused, the acquisition of one drunken night out four years ago with an equally smashed Mitarashi Anko. That she had managed to pick something more tasteful than angel wings, skulls, or ugly calligraphy was nothing short of a miracle; that incident alone had to have used up her lifetime quota of divine providence.

"Ancient history. But speaking of which, you should get another one."

"Maybe when you can explain the plot-hole that was Shioru's murder…" Hana didn't care that deeply about it, but she knew Anko enjoyed pretending to go into paroxysms of exasperation over inconsequential plot points. As a form of escapism or stabilizing influence, literature did for Anko what a dazzling buffet of meds could not. Given Hana's latest readings, she almost wanted to crack open an _Icha Icha _cover herself. Anything had to be better than sifting through a dead man's hospital records looking for clues she wouldn't know how to recognize. Hayate's surgeon had given a very detailed report on top of his regular stats… if Hana thought for a moment that his long-standing health problems had been his cause of death, Tsunade's summary could easily have shut down that hypothesis. Given the state in which Hayate was found, though, that only provided redundant confirmation of the autopsy.

"Your dogs would understand it," Anko was saying. She was still on the topic of _Apocalypse_'s Idiot Plot. "It's not about who _Shioru _was, it's about getting to Mariko…"

"If you say so. To be honest…" Partway through putting on her shoes, Hana stilled.

Anko peered at her face. "What?"

Gekkou Hayate's murder. What _hadn't _they checked?

Hana, of course, knew that Gekkou Hayate's last client had nothing to do with the death, though she didn't look forward to explaining that to Itachi. What both aided and hindered the investigation was that Hayate had been an intensely private man with a small social circle, and so far they'd eliminated all of them. He had no great enemies, especially as he and his partner at law usually helped their clients reach mutually satisfying settlements. Those in the legal field spoke of him with genuine respect. He'd left behind no trail of unresolved grudges or dangerous betrayals. Yuugao and Hayate appeared equally devoted to each other – she'd loved him enough to throw most of her savings into getting him the best surgeon possible.

_But Kazuya didn't kill Shioru because he hated her – he was trying to send a message to Mariko._

Maybe Hayate's murder really did have something to do with his long-term health problems. Except…

_It's not about his health problems; it's about his doctor._

"Oh, this could be brilliant," she breathed. They'd tried every other connection, no matter how tenuous, except for the chief surgeon at Konoha General.

"I've been trying to tell you that all evening," said Anko, picking dirt from under her nails to curb her impatience. "But I'm willing to hear you elaborate…"

"I need your advice," Hana said. "It's about something else, though. And yeah, it involves a guy I'm going to meet in a couple days."

Anko smirked. "I'm all ears."

* * *

Hana realized her mistake when they arrived at Ichiraku and Ayame came around the counter, beaming. Her preoccupation for the last few days had led her to forget that Ayame worked part-time at the stand on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

"Hana, do I have updates for you…" The other girl noticed Anko. "You must be a friend of Hana's. I'm Ayame."

Anko looked Ayame up and down and sneered slightly in a way that bared her eyeteeth.

There were many reasons why Hana preferred for none of her acquaintances and friends to meet – but Anko was even more volatile than most. Given what she'd gone through, that was understandable, though Anko's prickliness certainly didn't help matters.

"Ayame, this is Anko. We've known each other since I was a first year in college."

But Ayame was practically bursting to tell Hana the news, so even Anko's chilliness didn't deter her from standing by as Hana and Anko took the last two free seats at the counter. The only other people who had chosen to sit at the counter instead of the foldable round tables were a dark-haired man and his ward, a blond boy slurping up ramen with noisy gusto. "So, I… talked with him today."

"That sounds promising. What happened?"

"Well, I – actually –" Ayame blushed, flapping her hand in front of her face. "I was handing him his ramen, and I accidentally slopped a bit of the broth over the rim. _Amateur _mistake; any customer would be justified for yelling at me, but instead he just helped me set it down and thanked me."

"Still no name?" Hana teased.

"No, but I'm getting close!"

"Lame," muttered Anko in a highly artificial cough. Ayame finally turned to her with a slight frown.

"It's this guy who comes to Ichiraku Ramen pretty regularly. He's cute but doesn't say much. I've been trying to talk to him for ages. While he's waiting, he usually just takes out a book…"

"Gee, I wonder why."

"Okay! You don't care! I get it."

"Sorry," Hana began, shooting Anko a look which she returned with innocent malice.

Ayame resumed, ignoring Anko valiantly. "I'll be out of your hair soon; I just wanted to share." Hana nodded in encouragement. "Do you think I should check out what he's reading, so that we can have some subjects in common to talk about? I mean, I think he's really smart even though it's just a feeling… I don't think I'd be able to keep up on serious topics, but I could try? He's always reading something called _Icha Icha _whatsit… must be a series, but each book doesn't look too long."

Anko perked up on Hana's other side. "Oh, you should definitely read it."

"And I'd have a better shot at understanding what he reads for –" Ayame paused at the interruption. "Huh? You think so?"

"It's good, but don't read it for a bum at a ramen stand. Read it for its own sake."

Hana suppressed a sigh as Ayame responded positively, though not without confusion, to Anko's sudden mood switch. At least this accidental meeting hadn't ended in disaster. As a part-time waitress at a popular food stand, Ayame was a great source of casual information for Hana. It would have been sad to lose Ayame for the worst reason possible, Offence by Other Friend.

"Anyway, I really do have to go – sounds like I'll have to begin four books back with _Icha Icha …Paradise_, was it? …so I should get a head start. Nice running into you, Hana, and nice meeting you, Anko."

"Silly girl," Anko chortled barely after Ayame had left. "Where do you find all these bizarre friends, Hana?"

"No idea…"

Anko ignored her pointed look. They put in their orders and, for the next few seconds, were distracted by the impressive rate of consumption occurring at the other end of the counter. "Kid's got stamina," observed Anko, not at all concerned by how blatantly she was watching.

At times like these, it fell to Hana to set a good example. "So… how've you been?"

"Shitty." Just like that, Anko's attention was diverted. Her eyes slid to the chopsticks container, from which she grabbed a pair. "Tell me about this 'nobody' you're seeing."

There were few people with whom Hana was absolutely honest. Anko was one of them. "Don't get too excited… it's the police."

The wooden chopsticks snapped cleanly apart with a light cracking sound.

"He… requested my help on something."

She remembered how bizarre it had been to see Itachi juxtaposed against the hum-drum interior of her small apartment. He'd looked older – _duh, _people aged – but in some ways, exactly the same. And he still smelled vaguely like pine needles. He hadn't looked uncomfortable at all as anyone who paid an impromptu house visit probably should, barring very good friends or family… and he wasn't exactly either.

Though perhaps, once, he had been a good friend. He'd spared her from becoming collateral damage when the family scandal had exploded all over the news, hadn't he?

Anko tapped the chopsticks against her lower lip. "Old acquaintance?"

"Sort of. We fell out of touch ages ago."

"Then it's presumptuous of him," commented Anko. "Unless he had leverage on you and was pretty sure he could get what he wanted."

Leverage in terms of what had never happened, maybe. _Unrequited_ was too sentimental a word for Hana's feelings toward one Uchiha Itachi… she was still looking for a better one. "I admit nothing."

Neither he nor she had brought up Haimaru's latest article, though. The shared knowledge just sat there like an uncomfortable third party while he outlined the parameters of what he was asking her to do.

"The point is," Hana went on, "I'm concerned about compromising my anonymity… I was going to check out something later on this week, and I thought it might be nice to go through official channels for once." She met Anko's narrowed eyes. "But this also means that I'm going to be seen snooping around with the police. In public."

"Didn't you think that would happen when the suggestion first came up?"

"Yeah, but…" _I kind of wanted to spend time with him. _To be reminded of how sharp he was by seeing him at work. Or something. "Common sense kicking in a little late."

"Can you do… whatever it is you need to… without him hanging around?"

"Technically…" She thought of the map she had drawn up of the sites; thought of Kotetsu and Izumo and how they could just as easily get her into the warehouses on the docks as any badge-waving officer. The high-rise would be trickier, but far from impossible. Hana knew a bit about everything, and she just wanted to check a detail concerning the way the murder victims had been arranged.

"Then ditch the bastard and do what you do best," said Anko bluntly.

When in doubt about one's judgment, take a trusted friend's advice. "Okay. Yeah, I'll do that." Two steaming bowls of ramen arrived. Hana's stomach woke up at the fragrance of pork broth and garlic. "Oh, that smells amazing."

"Enjoy," said the chef with a wide grin, apparently having heard the comment.

For the next fifteen minutes, Hana obediently put everything else out of her mind.

* * *

Itachi _never _dropped his work for phone calls.

Perhaps that was why several of the staff who walked past him did a double take when they saw him talking quietly on his phone in the corner.

It was just a consultant blowing off their appointment for unspecified reasons, and he wanted to know why. He hadn't even been the one who proposed it, and what he had felt when seven a.m. came and went with no sign of said consultant darkening the steps of the police station was certainly relief or resignation, _not _an inexplicable sense of letdown. A normal person would, however, feel frustrated by the fact that he had purchased a redundant coffee, taken slightly more care with his personal appearance – compared to the lows he had sunk in the past week from being unable to tear himself away from the investigation (though Kisame assured him that this immense sacrifice had left him looking no different than normal) – and only then noticed the voicemail on his phone that he had neglected in favor of the twenty-odd messages on his pager.

He hoped she had thought to bring her jacket; it was, after all, an unusually windy day.

"You aren't authorized to go there alone; it's not just a question of safety."

"And here I almost thought you cared about me," was the flippant reply. "No worries; I left site three a minute ago, and I just compared it to my notes from a distance of fifty meters … it's so clearly marked that I didn't have to get that close to see how everything was laid out."

Site three was under the Naka River Bridge, one of the only two open-air crime scenes. Hardly reassuring when he realized she would need to circumvent many more rules to get near the other ones. "I do care about you," he said evenly. "You are an asset that I introduced to the team, and I'm responsible for you."

"Well, this asset doesn't want to take you away from your work any more than she has to. I'll just tell them it's cleared with you and you can approve it from home."

"That's not how this works," Itachi said coldly.

"Oh, look, one of your police friends want to chat with me, so I should probably hang up before they realize _you're_ not being incredibly productive. Or I could put you on speaker so that you can tell them yourself that I'm supposed to be here …" But Hana's voice had changed partway through the sentence, tightening with suppressed anxiety. "I'll talk to you later."

"Hana, where are your dogs?" he asked, straining to hear past the rustle of cloth. Judging by the sound coming through, she hadn't hung up. "Did you take your dogs with you?"

He had seen how large her dogs had grown first-hand when he had stopped by her modest apartment; now they resembled grey wolves, if wolves came in the size of small bears. But now he wondered if she had left them behind on purpose. Three dogs like hers would be far too conspicuous for any sneaking around.

He'd noticed a lot about her dogs, because he had been trying not to stare too openly at her and examine the strange hint of some emotional indication that he'd actually missed her. He had settled for brushing his hand over the sleeve of the jacket hanging all alone by the door when he left.

"… The forensics team?" remarked Hana's voice, distantly. "No, I don't really need to see what's in that needle, but I'm sure I've read a little about what you're doing – you could say I'm a curious passer-by... I really should go now, though, or my boyfriend will get worried –"

There was a snarl and a muffled thud; Hana's phone banged around inside whatever compartment she had placed it; suddenly, Itachi heard her scream, but it sounded more furious than terrified, or an alarming combination of both –

Kisame's head whipped up when Itachi swept past him, slowing down just enough to pass him the phone. "Send backup to site three, Naka River Bridge, and get another team to trace the signal from this call. Use my other number if you need to."

"Where're you headed, Itachi?"

If he thought Kisame would understand, Itachi would've told him he was leaving to pick up an umbrella.

* * *

Hana had preternaturally accurate gut feelings about people, so it was always unfortunate whenever her curiosity pushed her to overrule those misgivings.

The consequences rarely, however, landed her in the back of a fake police car with a pounding headache. When she remembered the last five minutes before she had lost consciousness, she wanted to kick herself.

Her first contact with Itachi in years, and she turned into some damsel in distress. What kind of crap was this?

"You'll be more comfortable if you sit up," said a placid male tenor from the front. His face was blocked from view by the screen between even the protective bars. So maybe this was a real police car, hijacked for nefarious purposes. "I've been monitoring your heart rate and I know you're awake now."

Hana sat up, more to see what part of the city he was driving in than in deference to his suggestion, but the windows had been blacked out.

"You seem like an interesting person," she said instead. "Can you tell me something about yourself?"

"You may call me Kabuto," said the man. He sounded young – he'd looked young, though his hair had been shockingly pale from what Hana recalled. "May I address you as Hana?"

"Sure." First things first. "Do you have plans to kill me, Kabuto?" Given the investigation she was helping with, that question seemed rather pertinent.

"I am no murderer, Hana."

So Kabuto was going to be evasive. It would have been more convenient to have been kidnapped by a less apparently even-keeled personality; then again, kidnapping was rarely at the victim's convenience.

_Victim_. Hana disliked that terminology.

Kabuto could be lying through his teeth, but in surreal situations like a kidnapping, it was too easy for Hana to feel reassured by hollow statements like the one he had just fed her. But knowing this was true didn't stop it from working.

She sighed. "I don't suppose you could let me know why you want me."

"Mainly, my employer would like to get to know you. And afterwards, if you pass the screening, you might even be eligible to participate in our current project."

"Hmm, and what does that involve?"

"In-vitro fertilization."

"I like a man with a sense of humor," said Hana, unconsciously hugging herself. Something felt wrong.

Not that it came as a shock, but the phone was no longer in her jacket pocket.

* * *

Kisame gave the empty storage unit a final glare before striding away with the phone to his ear. The wind threw itself against his trench coat, making it flap behind him. "No, there was nothing – just the phone with a cheeky draft of a text message. Yep… 'Give me some credit', with a smiley…" The rest of the team was regrouping. "We've secured the area – no one else's around. Where are you?"

"Heading north on Route 44 toward the Konoha Arboretum," replied his partner, sounding unsurprised by the news.

"How are you tracking him?" Kisame tried not to sound bewildered.

"I'm using an alternate channel. Send a team up, but tell them not to follow me sirens blazing, if possible."

"Of course not! There's a potential hostage, isn't there?"

"And there might be more than one of them."

Kisame wanted answers, but he knew Itachi well enough to know that he would have to wait at least until the situation was resolved. "All right. You know what you're doing?"

"See you soon."

_My job was much simpler when I was on patrol duty, _thought Kisame, but even as he put away his phone, a slow, shark-like grin spread on his face. He did enjoy the hunt.

"Team! We're going up Route 44 – let's catch this bastard before sundown!"

* * *

The car stopped, so they must have arrived at their destination.

Hana heard the driver's door open. Moments later, the door on the right – locked from the inside – swung open as well. The sunlight was blinding. "Come out. It'll be a pleasant walk."

"If you say so," Hana said dryly. She checked herself over as she climbed out and took a deep whiff of spring. Nature assaulted her senses – the fragrance of some early-blooming flowers, the shadows of some budding foliage and young leaves, the chirping of insects and birds rustling around in the branches. The air felt warm on her skin, though a persistent breeze wove through the trees. The sun was almost directly overhead now, useless for telling directions, but Hana recognized the place. She used to go there all the time with her brother.

Walking through Konoha's arboretum was admittedly a pleasant activity… though the company detracted a little from it.

"This way," said Kabuto, leading her away from the car parked by the gate marked south. Hana tilted her head, but his round glasses were highly reflective and tinted against the glare, hiding his eyes.

"Nice frames. And are those transition lenses?"

"Thank you; they are."

Their footsteps crushed the stalks of grass that had begun to bravely venture forth. Hana ground her heels with every step. It was a long shot; plenty of people liked walking off the dirt paths, too. Maybe it was still too early in the season, though…?

"Do you like nature, Hana?"

Conversation – always a good vehicle for learning new information. "Love it," she gushed. "How about you, Kabuto? Do you come here often?"

"Almost every day."

"You like the arboretum that much?"

Kabuto raised his head, sighting along a thick grey trunk. He did look like he genuinely enjoyed himself. A squirrel was chattering something fierce on the lowest branch of the tree, and he paused just a second longer before moving on. "Konoha's arboretum is a sanctuary for many rare plants, some of them not even native ones. Someone once explained to me that an arboretum was a tree zoo...I liked being reminded that everything here is just as alive as the moving organisms we usually notice first, but it's too narrow of a description."

"But you're here for the science, too, not just for the pure joy of staring at living things." _The only kind of living thing that doesn't – can't – run away from you. _

He glanced back at Hana, his smile as opaque as ever. She thought he would elaborate, but he just extended his hand.

She wanted to take it about as much as she wanted to cut off her toes and stuff them up her nose. "I'm pretty sure-footed myself, but thanks…"

"Come here." When she hesitated, he shook back his sleeve slightly, enough for her to see the sharp point of some projectile or weapon tucked against the length of his forearm by a concealed vambrace.

"Such a gentleman," she deadpanned, feeling her heart lurch and a little sweat start to bead on her forehead. Her voice stayed fairly even. Too bad the guy was monitoring her heart rate… how, though? Maybe he had just outfitted the _car_ with sensitive devices. Out here, they could be on their own.

Which, as she took another sweeping glance across the uneven terrain populated with sun-dappled trees, wasn't necessarily a good thing. Kabuto almost certainly knew the vast area covered by the arboretum better than she did.

His gloved hand closed around her elbow firmly. The gloves reminded her of Kabuto's initial pretext for approaching her.

"I'm guessing that if you were actually on the forensics team of whatever investigation was happening down by the bridge, you wouldn't have time to come here every day."

"Most likely not," agreed the young man. "Do you know much about the case?"

"Like I said… I was just passing by."

"I see."

"You?" she asked impulsively.

"I could say the same…"

He could, couldn't he? It seemed as though he no longer wanted to talk. No – he was actively looking for something now. Hana watched his expression, or what she could see of it minus the eyes. Those glasses… she was tempted to reach out and rip them off his face. Maybe he was also near-sighted. That would be great; Hana had twenty-twenty vision. She'd be out of there like a shot while he stumbled around looking for the glasses while trying not to crush them underfoot.

Right. _Next plan, Hana._

Her gut instinct told her there was nothing technically wrong with the previous plan, even if the details of her flight from the arboretum got fuzzier after the kick-off event of destroying his glasses.

But curiosity was a harsh master.

"Your employer works here," she guessed. "Maintaining the arboretum part-time?"

"Pruning the arboretum for research purposes."

Figured that Kabuto's boss would have a perfectly acceptable front. What did this have to do with in-vitro fertilization, really? Were they trying to breed hybrid vegetable babies? Monster tree-men? Ha-ha!

_Hana, you're panicking and it's making you stupid. Stop it._

New compounds were being discovered all the time in rainforests and even the scrubland of Earth Country. Undiluted and unmodified, many proved toxic; incorporated and utilized properly, they could counter the most virulent diseases and treat otherwise debilitating symptoms. The arboretum was like a buffet for Kabuto's crazy boss. The crazy was probably a part of Kabuto, too, although she hoped that rational, reasonable exterior went a bit deeper than your typical façade.

"Why me?" she wondered aloud.

Kabuto seemed to interpret the question as not rhetorical. "Why not you? You happened to be around… in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or, rather, in the right place at the right time. It was convenient."

"Why were you loitering near a crime scene, anyway?" She drew her arm across her face, wishing she had thought to roll up her sleeves before letting Kabuto take her by the elbow.

"Not much farther now," he said lightly, not answering her question.

* * *

"That was clever," said Itachi. "Giving me only half of what I needed to use the equipment I requested."

"You of all people know the value of playing it close to the chest," said the driver as he put the car in park. He made no move to get out of his seat. "You can leave that here," he offered generously when he caught Itachi eyeing the umbrella lying across the back. "I'll drop it off where it was until you need it again. Forecast says… Sunday."

"Thank you, Hatake."

"What's the response time for your backup?"

Itachi estimated from the time since Kisame's phone call. "Forty minutes, minimum."

The man nodded, returning his gaze to the road so that Itachi only saw a single, heavy-lidded eye and a profile covered by a mask from the eyes down. "Good luck."

Then he pulled away, leaving Itachi in the five thousand acre arboretum with a hand-sized tracking device, his badge, his spare phone, and his firearm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** The final installment of _Postscript -_ again, apologies if it raises more questions than it resolves, haha.Sequel is already in the works, but it probably won't be up by Tuesday because I'd like to finish it before putting it up, and life is going to get very busy very soon. Thanks for reading, and do drop a review if you have the time! ^^

* * *

_We're a man down_

_And I had him, but we lost him coming out_

* * *

Kabuto ran his hand along a bumpy-looking root virtually indistinguishable from the hundreds others tangled in the tree's root system. Seconds later, a section of the landscape caved inwards. Prior to that, they had been striding up a gentle slope for the better part of ten minutes, moving through dense, prickly bushes and not particularly cooperative twigs, and part of Hana felt glad that they had reached the entrance. She wasn't thrilled about the threat of surrogate motherhood or the slippery, unsettling aura given off by her deceptively mild-mannered kidnapper, but this just didn't seem to be happening _to her personally._

And the man had just opened a hidden passageway.

"Would you happen to know anything about the new mold species that's got the city up in arms?" she asked conversationally.

"It's unfortunate," was the calm response. "Ladies first?"

She knew the probability of coming out alive dropped significantly after one entered a closed space with an unknown, potentially violent kidnapper.

"I'd rather not have to carry you down," added Kabuto with a slight frown. The gloved fingers on Hana's elbow tightened. All he had to do was straighten his arm to use the weapon strapped to his wrist.

"I'm heavier than I look, too," Hana said. "Is your employer waiting downstairs?" Irritation flashed through the soot-black eyes behind the glasses. A strong shove forced her ahead of Kabuto in the passageway. She played up her stumble, so that he had to follow quickly or lose his grip. "That was not necessary – I was going to –"

Sliding out of his temporarily loosened grasp, she yanked him forward by the hand that had formerly been on her elbow as soon as her feet were firmly planted on the ground. Before the rest of Kabuto's body could catch up, she braced the elbow of his overextended arm against her shoulder. But Hana didn't get to complete the motion as Kabuto's other fist hit her spine. A lancing pain radiated out from where he had stabbed her; she spun on her heel, driving her elbow backward. It struck him full in the throat.

Kabuto gagged, and Hana followed with an uppercut to the jaw. She landed a glancing blow instead, bringing up her knee while the man tried to recover his balance. His left arm arced around to stab her again with the sharp weapon, but this time she blocked his arm with the inside of her own. Kabuto kicked her sharply in the knee and she fell, making sure to pin down the arm with the sharp weapon. Her body seemed to slow down, moving with half her usual speed. Meanwhile, Kabuto's right fist punched her in the side repeatedly. He was already starting to rise, turning onto his side so that her weight was only on his left arm. A frighteningly calm smile widened his mouth. His hair had come free of its ponytail and strands of it hung over Hana's shoulder. Irrationally, the fact that _his _bangs were obscuring her vision infuriated Hana even more than her body's unusual sluggishness. The lower half of her body had gone entirely numb and unresponsive.

She heard his harsh breathing overlay her own and realized that if he could get himself over her, his weight alone would end the fight. "Why – couldn't – you – make things – easier – for – yourself?" gasped Kabuto.

F – this, she was _so_ done talking.

Kabuto's current position bared his bruised neck to Hana, and, bracing her weight on the hand she was using to pin down his left arm, she surged up and twisted around at the same time, ignoring the spasm of pain to sink her teeth in his throat.

Whatever condescending words the man had been saying disintegrated into a tortured snarl. His glasses tumbled off the bridge of his nose and clattered to the ground. A coppery taste spread over Hana's tongue as her teeth broke through his skin. With renewed vigor or desperation, Kabuto resumed hitting her in the side with his free arm. Despite the increasing numbness, Hana felt it the instant one of her ribs fractured. Gasping, she lost her grip on his throat, at which he seized her by the hair and turned her head to smash it into the ground.

The impact cut her lip on the edge of her incisors. Something else broke with a loud crack – her right cheekbone. The fingers digging into her scalp lifted her head again, and she heard someone whimper in dread. She knew she should hold on to the earlier anger and fear that had fueled her resistance – dread was only a half-step up from despair and passivity. Worse, her vision had started to go in and out. Kabuto was nothing more than a dark blur hovering above the body that had become dead weight.

If she had ever had a chance of fighting him off by sheer speed and strength, that ship had sailed.

So Hana let herself go limp. As soon as Kabuto sat back, he'd notice what he might have missed earlier when she had cut off circulation to his left arm, but that was the only opportunity she had to bring her hand up between them.

Her captor's grip shifted as he moved back for more leverage.

It was Hana who screamed the next second, but Kabuto who slumped onto his back with a syringe fully depressed into the side of his neck.

For the space of several heartbeats, Hana lay where she was, completely exhausted. Her eyes started to close.

If she fell unconscious, that would undo all the good that stabbing Kabuto had done.

Hana grunted and managed to wriggle out from under the lower half of Kabuto's body. Her legs still responded to her brain's commands, if reluctantly. Her hands were shaking as she pulled herself upright. Her rib chose to reassert itself then; bright, burning agony washed over Hana.

Her hands hit something hard and bruising on the ground. She picked it up slowly and turned it around with incomprehension until her mind finally caught up. Kabuto's glasses. She hurled them as hard as she could at the white-washed wall six meters away from the entrance, but didn't hear them break. Maybe she should have crushed the lenses underfoot.

A cautious glance told her that Kabuto was out cold, having received the drug much more violently and immediately through a tear in his neck. Even so, Hana didn't remember how much of it had been left in the syringe after he had pummeled her with it. At least the needle hadn't bent so far out of shape that it was useless.

Even crawling on all fours toward the unconscious man took an alarming amount of effort. Hana successfully rolled him onto his back on her second attempt and started to go through the pockets of his clothes with clumsy fingers. _Oh, good_ – a blank card with a stripe on the back to swipe into a door of some kind, a pen… no, that was a covered scalpel, never mind; an _actual _pen, an identification card that said he was Yakushi Kabuto and part of the forensic support service of the Konoha Police – _fake, _Hana decided after squinting briefly at the faintly smudged ink, probably meant for a one-time use and not close scrutiny… and a wallet with some cash, a subway pass, quite ordinary. She felt around in the pockets of his slacks and found only a small pack of tissue. It looked like this was it. Where was his g – damn _phone_, for crying out loud? She would have snarled in frustration, except that she lacked the energy.

Kabuto looked very peaceful, but Hana had no idea how long he would remain inert. Nor, for that matter, how little time she had before she also lost consciousness. Hana had grown up in a rougher neighborhood than the one where she currently lived, and that had forced her to toughen up. Still, that had been years ago, before Papa Inuzuka ran out on the family and they had relocated to a very different district… practically ages since she had to deal with this level of pain.

She was definitely going to look up some old friends for a refresher on self-defense…

Staggering to her feet – none of that was feigned anymore – Hana began to shuffle to the exit, one step at a time. The walls were unhelpfully blank. She could see where the hidden door would sink towards her and slide back at the opening, but not how to activate it. It probably operated on a simple mechanism.

Hana slumped to the ground, telling herself it was so that she could examine the bottom of the door more closely.

It seemed like only had seconds had passed since she leaned back against the wall and her eyes had somehow closed of their own accord when she heard – or rather, felt – someone walking over the concealed door.

"Here!" she shouted. Her voice came out as a feeble croak. Her face throbbed, and she'd only barely moved her mouth. Shit, how long had she been out? Was Kabuto still out cold or coming to his senses? She stared at the body lying just five meters away, where their earlier struggle had taken them. She couldn't remember if he had lain there in that exact position.

Now she didn't dare take her eyes off him.

Forcing herself into action, Hana changed her position against the wall so that she could give the door a solid kick. An answering thump came from the other side. She cleared her throat, turning her head slightly so that her voice would transmit better. She only wanted to do this once. "There's a switch somewhere! Try the roots of the tree to your left!" That had to be loud enough.

Whoever it was didn't reply but moved away, perhaps to take her advice. Hana shuddered, apprehensive despite her exhaustion. Bizarrely enough, it reminded her of how she felt just before a deadline or arranging a face-to-face meeting with an important source – the last hour of adrenaline that her body could take.

It could have just been a dog pawing around. Or a compatriot of Kabuto's – Hana just didn't want to wait any longer. Speaking of Kabuto – her head whipped around, fast enough to make everything spin and throb and induce massive regret on her part –

And oh, _f - ,_ she should have slashed that scalpel across his throat –

He had disappeared, syringe and all.

* * *

Itachi could have followed the trail even without the tracking device. He guessed that either Hana had trampled through the terrain like that on purpose, or it indicated that the kidnapper was not managing the weight of an extra body that skillfully.

They had followed a relatively straightforward path, so if Hana had been conscious for the journey, Itachi doubted that the kidnapper intended for her to ever leave their destination. Only at the end of the trail, partway up a steadily rising slope, did he have to slow down and pull out the tracking device again. The signal pulsed directly under his feet, which meant that he was standing over a recess or a hidden chamber.

Then there had been a faint sound, followed by a thud muffled by the earthen barrier. He ran his hand over the rough, natural-looking surface, looking for an artificial smoothness that would betray a way in. The second time Hana spoke, he recognized her voice with something akin to relief: "There's a switch somewhere! Try the roots of the tree to your left!"

It had taken him half a second to narrow down the section of the root system likely to conceal a switch, a fraction longer to conduct a tactile search, and a mere instant to snap the tiny lever.

A patch of twig and grass-covered dirt the size of a modest doorway indented into the hillside.

Before he could do more than recognize the person slumped beside the opening, Hana's scream assaulted his ears.

"_He was right there!_"

* * *

Hana felt like a mess and knew that she probably looked like one. About fifteen minutes had passed since she had greeted Itachi with, sad to say, hysterical, incoherent variations of "I saw him right there" and "Leave me alone and _go find him _and _destroy him_" – well, maybe not that last part. She hoped. Her head hurt. That was her excuse.

She could tell that Itachi was ruing his decision to come without backup from the way he had paused before helping her out of the hidden passageway and propping her against one of the many trees nearby prior to going back down to investigate. She suspected that this was somewhat against protocol as well. It didn't surprise her that he played so fast and loose with the official rules at critical moments.

It didn't bother Hana that he had gone ahead and left her behind – she'd practically yelled at him to do it. But the waiting – that had been trying.

He had reemerged without a hair out of place, not even breathing hard nor needing to straighten any part of his uniform, except for the heightened intensity in his eyes.

No Kabuto. Hana wanted to cry. She was going to revisit that decision for days, if not weeks and months. She should have hamstrung the man with that scalpel. Permanently incapacitated him. _Something._

He could have any number of exits throughout or even beyond the arboretum, and Itachi alone, no matter how brilliant and amazing a policeman, had no means of securing all of them even if he discovered every single one.

_That _was why she figured he had come back to keep her company. He had already called the emergency number, his superior officer, and his partner, and all they had to do was more waiting.

"Twenty minutes, give or take five," he said quietly. Hana couldn't see his face because Itachi was still on his feet. Standing was a much better way to meet any danger; she wished she could match his alertness and perceptiveness, as he'd anticipated her question about when reinforcements would arrive.

"How did you find me? He took my phone and I tried to find his to call for help, but he didn't have one…" The answers to her questions didn't seem to matter very much right then, but Hana knew she would care about them later.

"I planted a bug on you," Itachi said, neither acting nor looking particularly ashamed.

"Thanks for telling me," she said sourly, pulling the hem of her sleeve over her battered knuckles. She should have nailed that punch. If she had, Kabuto would have been laid out for hours. At the very least, she could be comforted by the fact that, somewhere out there, he'd be suffering a dislocated jaw.

Her sullen silence lasted for all of one minute. "He told me he was part of the forensics team," she said, barely above a mumble because one of her cheekbones was feeling a little pulverized. "Lie, of course – his ID card was a fake... but do you think he's connected at all to the case?"

Itachi's response came after a short delay. He returned from pacing around the tree, reentering her peripheral vision. "It's difficult to judge whether he or the employer he told you about would be the type to commit ritualistic murder. Most of the doors underground were locked."

"You mentioned that he wasn't carrying a phone," Itachi said. When Hana said nothing, nonplussed, he elaborated, "You had time to search him. Did you find anything else on him?"

At this, Hana's fingers curled around her jacket pocket, where the items she had lifted from Kabuto still were.

"You can't withhold evidence from –"

Hana flushed. "Stop _threatening _me; I wasn't planning to." She had intended to hold on to the items for a bit longer to decide if she could learn anything else by them independently, but with every intention of turning them over. They wouldn't find Kabuto's fingerprints, anyway – the man had kept his gloves on. If they had been on his person for a while, though, he could have left _something_ for DNA analysis.

"Oh," she recalled aloud while staring at the pretty bush directly across from her and in her line of vision, "I also should have a little of his blood on me."

Mixed in with hers, probably… though there could be a usable sample on the ground back there. Her eyelids began to flutter shut. She snapped them back open with willpower alone. "Shouldn't you try to help me stay awake? I might have a concussion…"

"It's a myth that someone with a concussion shouldn't fall asleep. Your pupils aren't dilated, and the reason you have trouble walking is because of the other injuries you've sustained. However," he added before Hana could respond to that, "you could answer another question. Why not Ebisu?"

Hana genuinely hated him for a second. Immediately afterwards, she laughed softly. He was taking advantage of her weakened state to find out what he wanted. So what? She understood the impulse. Feeling personally wronged would just be hypocritical.

"Ebisu… Gekkou and Shiranui's newest client. You want to know why he's a dead-end for the investigation?" she asked slowly. "It's because of me, really… I was looking for some information and his name came up." The Assistant Professor of Education at Konoha University had gotten alarmed by an injudicious action by Hana's contact, who had been proceeding on the strength of a fake government inquiry. Hana eventually decided that he was useless for her purposes, since he only had a passing connection to the subject. "I looked into it and found out that the most exciting transgression he'd ever committed was using up university bandwidth to download porn. After Danzou and BDSM, that kind of news wouldn't even make a ripple." Ebisu, however, wanted to sue over a breach of privacy.

A tiny noise left Itachi's throat. She glanced up, but by then, whatever expression of amusement had crossed his face had already faded.

She started to drift off again when another question occurred, separate from their current predicament but loosely related to the last subject of their stilted conversation. "Hey, Itachi… why didn't you ever ask why… why Haimaru wrote about the Uchiha?"

"I realized that you would tell me when you wanted to." In her addled state, Hana stood no chance of interpreting his tone of voice. Facetiousness or deep-seated bitterness?

"You could've tried asking. People give you surprisingly much to go on when you ask."

"Is that how you get your sources to talk?"

A part of Hana knew that she was babbling, but the filter between brain and mouth had broken down somewhere between the fractured rib and the fractured cheekbone. "Some people are more talkative than others. But… everyone talks."

"You don't believe that anyone can carry a secret to the grave."

She started to shake her head and stopped, regretting it swiftly. "In this world, there are no true secrets."

"The motto of Konoha Exclusive."

Hana snorted, then started to giggle. "You read that rubbish?"

"Just an educated guess."

"Education and Konoha Exclusive are basically mutually exclusive."

"Not," said Itachi, "while Haimaru is still writing for them."

Hana turned that over in her head. "If Haimaru hadn't been writing for K.E.," she pointed out, "you wouldn't even know I existed."

The silence she received in answer made her just a little sad.

* * *

Once Kisame and the rest of the team had arrived, Itachi could leave Hana's side to make other phone calls. He moved out of reasonable hearing range but remained close enough to keep her in sight before dialing.

The first call went to Commissioner Pein again, who was unable to answer at that point because he had gone to see about a suspicious incident in Shukuba, the pleasure district that still fell under the jurisdiction of the Konoha Police. Deputy Konan reiterated his displeasure.

"Inspector, however things were done in Otafuku, in Konoha proper, you are expected to travel _with your partner _at all times for a variety of very good reasons. I also expect you to disclose all your sources with the rest of the department so that they can be verified and enable us to coordinate teams in the future. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, more intent on keeping an eye on the ambulatory staff who were supporting Hana to her feet. Kisame smirked widely as he lowered the phone; Konan had already hung up.

"I still can't get over that."

"What?" Itachi gave him a bland look. "Showing respect to a superior officer?"

Putting his hands in his pockets, Kisame chuckled. "This is the most concern I've ever seen you express. You watch her like a hawk, Itachi."

He felt responsible, that was why. In some ways, he was glad that Hana had chosen to write about trash and topics that were more inflammatory than significant – though if she continued down that road, she'd eventually find a target painted on her back. People weren't happy with Haimaru, but those articles were confined to a rag like Konoha Exclusive. Hana's anonymity was her best defense, and by bringing her into a serious investigation, he had jeopardized her safety. Now he felt obliged to keep everyone off her trail.

Not that attaching a bug to Hana's jacket hadn't been a fortuitous decision…

Invasive, yes. Presumptuous, most likely. Necessary… he could argue as much, based on what had just happened.

Besides, no matter how sick of him Hana deserved to be, he needed to see her again at least one more time to retrieve Kabuto's small items.

Aloud, he told Kisame, "Her kidnapper, Kabuto, didn't keep a phone on him."

"He wasn't planning to travel very far," speculated his partner. "He knew where he was going and headed directly there with no detours. It's possible that he planned it all before setting out for the Naka River Bridge." Nor had the individual witnesses interviewed on site formed any useful impressions of the man apart from the fact that he was light-haired and possessed an innocuous smile.

"Perhaps. Or he did not intend to keep anything genuinely personal or useful on himself."

Kisame's eyes narrowed. "Do you really think… he let himself get knocked out and intended for us to discover this place? But why?"

"At this point, it's only speculation." Itachi turned and started the walk back to the cars. Kisame fell in step. "I'm visiting Hana at the hospital tomorrow if she isn't discharged by then."

"All right… why are you telling me this?"

"Because I am expected to travel with my partner at all times… according to Deputy Konan."

And having Kisame around would prevent him or Hana from saying stupid things. He had almost retorted in response to one of Hana's comments that she had never attempted to contact him in over seven years, and that would have made it sound as though their lack of communication meant much more than it truly did. The less said about the past by either of them – accusations, hypotheticals, or otherwise – the better.

Kisame only grinned. "Now you'll actually follow that order? I'm keeping track of how long this will last."

"On Sunday morning," Itachi went on, ignoring irrelevant comments as was his general practice, "I'm revisiting the six sites."

"Fine by me, Inspector."

* * *

Her brother rushed into the room, looking devastated. She hated that. "What the f – happened?"

"Kiba," Hana warned, "Can you not make a big deal about this?"

"Working with the _police _got you beat up?"

Too late; her mother had rushed in as well. "How can you be surprised?" Tsume shoved open the window beside the bed and whirled around, looking in vain for some other way to make Hana more comfortable, or maybe just an outlet for her agitation. "The _law _only protects government stooges. When you come down to it, we're all in danger and need to fend for ourselves. Trusting in law enforcement is pure delusion!"

Kiba's brows squished together in a massive frown. Hana knew he was wrestling with what he had grown up believing and what their mother was ranting about – preconceptions rooted firmly in an old life on the scrappier side of Konoha. "But –"

"Anyway, I'll be out of here soon. How are the…" A newfound caution stopped Hana from saying _the Haimaru brothers._ "How are my dogs doing?"

"They're fine, I've told you," said Kiba, now frowning in slight annoyance. "I fed them, changed their water, walked them, just like you asked. I left Akamaru with them before coming over – that's okay, right?"

"Thanks, Kiba." Hana ruffled his hair and laughed at his grimace. "Knew I could count on you."

"Anko left a message on your voicemail machine."

"Oh, shoot. What?"

"Asked you how your date went." Kiba tilted his head, an expression of deep skepticism crossing his face. "This… was your date? With the police?"

"Don't…"

"Well, of course, that's what happens when you associate with the police," interjected Tsume, sitting down and getting back up from the bedside chair within the span of a sentence.

Hana considered how to explain the situation. "Less date, more police, to tell the truth…"

Kabuto's actions had deeply disturbed her – not necessarily at the arboretum, but the previous night at the hospital, when her thoughts kept jumping back to what had happened. It wasn't anything specific. It was just that reviewing the whole event had prevented her from getting any rest. But therapy would only take up precious time that could be spent investigating.

If she had interpreted Itachi's microexpressions correctly, he had very much repented of inviting her on board as a bogus civilian consultant. He'd probably start shutting her out of the investigation. Not that Hana would let him.

She still had to share her pseudo-epiphany about looking into Gekkou Hayate's surgeon, for one. The preliminary research she had done before Friday had uncovered a couple of promising minutiae on Senju Tsunade…

Not to mention, they still had to hit up the murder sites and drop by the Springtime of Youth karaoke club.

And then it would be about time for her to start drafting up her next article for Konoha Exclusive…

All three of the Inuzuka family glanced up when they heard the knock on the door. The nurse looked in. "Miss Hana, you have another visitor. Would you like to see him now?"

Hana caught sight of another tall, imposingly built man in uniform through the glass beside the door. The man gave her a rather toothy smirk before presenting his back to her to sit in one of the hallway chairs. "Let him in."

Itachi walked in, seemingly impervious to Tsume's glare or Kiba's wary appraisal. "Good afternoon. May I talk with Hana for a minute?"

Hana turned her snort of laughter into a … less obviously amused noise. Not two seconds in the room and Itachi nonchalantly pulled the policeman card. If he was pressed for time, that was probably for the best; Tsume was already prejudiced against men in uniform, anyway, and Kiba would take his cue from her.

"If you must," said Hana's mother.

When she and Kiba had eventually left the room and closed the door behind them, Itachi drew closer.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked in a low voice. Hana appreciated his consideration; her own mother's voice tended to rise when she got started on any topic that loosely held her interest, and handling it while suffering from a headache didn't quite make it onto Hana's personal List of Fun Things.

"Better than you, apparently." Hana had noticed the dark circles under his eyes – the unfortunate tear troughs that marred his otherwise decently good looks only augmented the effect – but at this distance, she even saw how bloodshot his sclera had become.

His gaze left hers to give the room a once-over – hers was the only occupied bed here, so the bed curtains had been pushed back, and everything could be taken at a glance, like the sink and the counter with her own clothes folded over them while she sat awkwardly in the hospital set. Hana bit the inside of her cheek. Somehow, she always ended up at a disadvantage whenever she encountered Uchiha Itachi. Couldn't she be clever or insightful for once?

"I don't have Kabuto's things on me right now," she said. That was probably why he had come. "I can get them to you later."

"The sooner the better," said Itachi.

"Right."

"There was just enough of his blood on the ground for us to take a sample."

Hana raised her head. "Were there any matches?"

"None have been found yet."

Another lull ensued.

"Have you –"

"I brought –"

Both of them fell silent, startled.

"I, um, was going to ask if you had thought of looking up Senju Tsunade," said Hana into the uncomfortable quiet.

"Gekkou Hayate's surgeon… She's the granddaughter of a billionaire and former casino owner in Shukuba."

"Oh, you already know about that?" Hana pulled her hair out of her face, wishing she had an elastic. She ended up pushing it over her shoulder. "Did you also know that she has a serious gambling problem?"

Itachi raised an eyebrow. "That's just a rumor."

"Rumors often start with a little truth. Any luck with the investigation since yesterday?"

Itachi stood by the window, looking out at Konoha basked in the lazy afternoon sunlight. "We have one more week."

"Until my birthday?"

He didn't respond to her weak joke, true though it was. "Until the murderer acts again."

Hana sobered. "I'm sorry I diverted resources yesterday."

"You couldn't have predicted –"

'I shouldn't have gone alone!" She stared at him fiercely, daring him to lie to reassure her. That wasn't his style, but Itachi also evinced occasional kindness that ended up hurting her pride more than it soothed. "Kabuto could have taken anyone, but it would have been anyone _at that site_, since he was lurking around… he wanted someone to see him and send people to follow him. So maybe he would have distracted the Konoha Police regardless, but since I was there that time, I'm the one who ended up being the cause."

Itachi looked at her for a long moment.

"You agree, then," he said. "Kabuto wanted to be found and followed."

"He probably let me stab him with the syringe, too, to be convincing." Hana tried not to sound bitter. It was silly and childish to feel bitter about _that._

But Itachi shook his head. "It's more likely that he didn't expect to be beaten in a fight. That would have been a silly risk to take, even if he did prepare himself for the possibility." He reached into his pocket and handed her the small object that he had retrieved. It was her phone.

"Thanks. I didn't think I'd get it back." She wasn't dumb enough to put sensitive numbers in her contact list, but not having the phone had bothered her nonetheless. There was a troubling backlog of emails.

Itachi took her preoccupation as his cue to leave. Tsume and Kiba reentered briefly to say that they'd be back in the evening to bring her home. After that, Hana was free to catch up on her email.

She skipped the ones with frivolous subject headings and nearly deleted the one sent from a throwaway email composed of a string of random numbers and letters, sure that her email provider had missed a piece of spam. However, her fingers – still clumsy from the bruising they had taken yesterday – touched the wrong button and opened the email instead.

It read,

_The _Hokage_ would like to pass on to you _

_the _Will of Fire

_in the event that you accept, _show us

_Signed,_

_(you may have guessed)_

_The _Hokage

_P.S.:_

Hana's hand was shaking stupidly after she finished reading the short message, including the name in the postscript, so she rested her phone on top of the covers as she gathered her thoughts.

The international hacking organization that had released the Bingo Book online last month was known as the _Kage_. Some said that they had different branches in various major cities – Iwa, Kumo, Kiri, Suna, and Konoha – to target different epicenters of crime.

The email might have caught her in a gullible state of mind, but Hana couldn't help wondering what it would mean if a branch of the Kage did stand behind that cryptic invitation. In terms of getting at digital information, she doubted she could contribute all that much to the organization's goals.

Her methods were much more active and involved talking to people, overhearing snippets, creating situations where the information she wanted would be more likely to surface… and in that respect, Hana knew she might be able to provide a valuable service.

But who had sent that email, really? Whether or not it had genuinely come from the Kage, it confirmed one thing – she had caught someone's attention.

For whatever reason, Hana felt that by challenging her to "show" this so-called Hokage that she was with them, they really intended for her to _write _about the person whose name they had given her. It could have just been a helpful hint, but Haimaru had begun to feel increasingly inadequate and fallible as a pseudonym; given all of that, she didn't hide the fact that she deliberately alternated the gender of her article's subjects, and this name would appear to accommodate that pattern.

Very rarely did Hana write about someone whom she knew virtually nothing to start with. She didn't even recognize the name at first, though as she turned it over in her head and said it aloud a few times, she wondered if she hadn't heard or read it before.

_U – zu- ma – ki – Ku – shi – na_.

* * *

Itachi knew, by the end of Sunday.

The sun's glare sheeted the cordoned-off crime scene in a golden haze. The light was coming in through the small, high windows of the second floor of the parking garage; it would only grow stronger as the day wore on.

Kisame had followed him without any verbal cajoling, merely walking around the circular stain on the ground as if that would give him a different perspective.

Itachi checked the compass in his hand as he stood directly opposite the vertex of the triangle where the victim's head had formerly been set up. East.

Four of the ritual arrangements had been oriented precisely to the east – Nii Yugito, Akado Yoroi, the unidentified teen simply named "Sai", and Gekkou Hayate, the last two of which had also been killed on the same night in March. The remaining two out of six victims were curiously haphazard in terms of direction. Those two had been the third and sixth victims discovered, and they had appeared to follow the pattern so closely that forensics only recently confessed that they hadn't been as thorough or careful with every single crime scene. They would retest all of them to make sure none of the samples got switched up this time.

Later that evening, as he retrieved his umbrella from the bucket by the Ichiraku Ramen stand, Itachi would read another message tucked inside its folds: _not all human blood; good catch._

So three and six were the odd ones out.

Walking back to the police station, Itachi came to an unpleasant but clearly long overdue conclusion: There was more than one killer, and one of them was piggy-backing on the other's work.

On the bright side, he made the walk back without once needing to open the umbrella. Sometimes, the forecast could be wrong.


End file.
